Big Game Illustrated - Issue 22

Fall 2018 issue CANADA/USA 6.99

COVER STORY

BEAMER, THE WIDEST DEER IN THE WEST Jon Neustaeter FEATURE ARTICLE

SET HER MIND TO THE BOW HUNT! Emily Schaad

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42 Feature Editorial BEAMER, THE WIDEST DEER IN THE WEST!

By Jon Neustaeter

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Hunting ‘mulies’ with my bow is the most exhilarating thing I’ve ever done.

SET HER MIND TO THE BOW HUNT!

By Emily Schaad

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I was always taught to be independent and learn as many things as possible and to never rely on others in pursing your dreams.

In This Issue BEAMER, THE WIDEST DEER IN THE WEST! 06

By Jon Neustaeter

A FOUR PART HARMONY

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PUBLIC LAND

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NOT BAD AT ALL

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SET HER MIND TO THE BOW

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By Dallas Kaiser

By Dana White

By Ben Court

By Emily Schaad

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DOUBLE HEADER

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THE BIGGEST WHITETAIL I WILL EVER HARVEST!

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LONGBROW, THE MIDWEST MONSTER BUCK!

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By Reese Anderson

By Phillip Seymour

By Ethan Hampton

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CRABBY, BY DESIGN

By Hailee Daniels

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BEAMER, THE WIDEST DEER IN THE WEST!

By Jon Neustaeter

Hunting ‘mulies’ with my bow is the most exhilarating thing I’ve ever done. You’ve got to put in the time and the work, but the reward is always worth it.

The 2017 hunting season was a bit different than other years because I had a draw tag in hand. Don’t get me wrong, it’s a huge advantage getting to hunt on September 1st when the deer are still in the summer patterns, but it does add some pressure.

Not only do you get two weeks less of scouting, but the expectations of getting that “once in a lifetime” deer are increased. Opportunities like this don’t come around too often. I searched high and low for a deer that would fit these high standards, but none of them seemed to have that that “Wow” factor. In desperation to find a target deer, I had to seriously expand my scouting territory.

On August 11th, I picked up my buddy Dane Hildebrand after work and we headed to a new spot that none of us had ever been before. I decided to take a muddy trail off the beaten path. As we crested the hill I looked at the fence line ahead and saw three nice bucks. I got my spotting scope out and could tell that one stood out. As he spun his head around, my jaw dropped and Dane and I burst out laughing. What was this “FREAK” that was looking at us 100 yards away? His beams just kept going forever and the width he carried was out of this world, it just didn’t look real. I now knew which deer I was going to go after when September 1st rolled around. For the following three weeks leading up to the season I spent every evening in

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search of a second glimpse of the deer I began to call “Beamer”, but it was to no avail.

Opening day arrived and it saw Josh Driedger and I driving out to the area in search of him. At first light, I spotted a giant deer in a slough not far from the road.

He was sporting a big drop tine, a bunch of flyers, along with tree trunks for bases. I couldn’t believe my eyes, “How did I not come across this deer while scouting?”

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I thought. As I contemplated what to do with this new found mature deer, he ended up hightailing it into a deep coulee. I decided to leave him alone and continue the search for Beamer. We came upon a slough that had some uncut wheat around it, but something looked unusual in the middle of it. As soon as I came to a stop he bolted out into the open field with two smaller buddies. Josh and I made our way to the other side of the field just in time to see them make their way into

a bigger slough. We made a game plan as we sat from afar and assessed the situation. Then in the distance we heard a noise headed down the road towards the field he was in. Sure enough, it was a sprayer coming into to desiccate the remainder of the crop. Beamer got up out of his bed and headed back into the direction he just came. He didn’t really know where he wanted to go, so Josh and I sat back at a distance trying to gauge what he was going to do next. After a couple

of hours of indecision, I could tell he wanted to head back to the original slough we scared him out of at first light. I took off running, bow in hand, trying to beat him for an ambush. I settled into the middle of the tall weeds while he slowly made his way directly towards me. Suddenly, his ears perked up and he took off running again. I looked to my right and that same sprayer that had scared him earlier was on his way to desiccate the rest of the crop around where I was setup.

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I decided to just sit tight and wait for him to go around, so that I wouldn’t bother him while he did his work.

Soon I realized he wasn’t going around and was headed right through the middle of slough in my direction. I quickly leaped to my feet with my arms waving in the air so that he wouldn’t drive me over.

He slammed on the brakes and almost went through the windshield. I think I also scared him half to death.

It’s not every day some random guy pops up in your slough while your spraying. We laughed it off and he wished me good luck in getting the giant that just ran over the hill.

We found him again that evening but left him alone because the wind wasn’t right, and light was fading.

The next evening my friend Tanner Neu and I returned to the same little area, and sure enough he was standing in a pasture no more than 300 yards from where we last saw him. He was headed up a fence line away from us, so we went way around to try and cut him off. As we approached where we had last saw him, a vehicle turned down the trail where Beamer was. The SUV hightailed its way down, slammed on the breaks and went backwards. We then saw Beamer prance his way away from both of us, another blown stalk. They ended up being random people from Manitoba that just found a random spot to camp for the night, right where I was trying to stalk the deer of my dreams!

“Are you kidding me?” I thought.

I didn’t find Beamer for a couple of days and started to get worried. Josh, Tanner and my other buddies Jordan Wittman and Zac Wiebe came to help me look for him one morning. We ended up finding him bedded back in the same field where we had found him on opening day. Josh and I decided to sneak up on him while the others kept a close watch on him from a distance to see if he gave us the slip. Sure, enough Josh and I misjudged where we were bedded in the wheat, he caught our scent and took off without us even knowing. We walked back to the truck, discouraged at yet another missed opportunity. That evening we spotted him again, working his way back to a dugout that was nearby the wheat field we had blown the stalk in earlier. Daylight was fading fast, so we really had to

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boogey. We made it to the edge with only a few minutes of legal light. He continued to feed out at about 80 yards, but for whatever reason, he never came any closer. It was dead quiet as Josh and I watched in agony as light disappeared, and we realized it was another failed opportunity. I was starting to get quite disheartened, but was grateful that I was seeing him almost every morning and evening that I looked for him.

It had to eventually work out, it just had to,” I thought.

It was Friday, September 8th and we were back in the same area. We couldn’t find him in his normal spots, so we decided to head back home. I decided to pull over and look across a valley. I was scanning across with my spotting scope when, from two miles away, I could unmistakably see Beamer’s incredibly wide frame sticking out on either side of a shrub. Plans of going home were quickly abolished, so Josh and I drove around him and set out to where we figured he was situated. When we got close to where we figured he

“He officially has the widest inside spread on a mule deer ever shot in Saskatchewan. I will never shoot a more jaw dropping, heart stopping deer in my life.” was, he stood up and looked directly at us at 100 yards.

He had moved spots and must’ve caught our movement. We didn’t move an inch as we had a 10-minute stare down. To our delight he decided that we weren’t a threat and continued feeding. Once he faded just out of sight we slowly crept to a higher knoll to see where he had gone. We spotted antler sticking out from behind a bush no more than 70 yards away. We slowly crept our way through the sage brush, probably taking close to an hour to close the gap to 29 yards. Now the

Opening day arrived and it saw Josh Driedger and I driving out to the area in search of him. At first light, I spotted a giant deer in a slough not far from the road. He was sporting a big drop tine, a bunch of flyers, along with tree trunks for bases. I couldn’t believe my eyes, “How did I not come across this deer while scouting?”

waiting game began, or so I thought, until he rose to his feet not five minutes after we were setup on him!

As he started walking out from behind the bush, I had such bad buck fever that I tried putting my arrow on my string by the peep sight. I finally managed to get the arrow on the right place, drew back my bow, and let it fly. He took off running towards the water and went out of sight. Josh looked at me and said, “You drilled him”, but I second guessed the shot thinking it might have been a little far back. We decided to back out and give him some time.

Meanwhile, we picked up Tanner and Jordan to have a few more eyes for locating him. I figured he stayed close to the water, so I followed the trail that was on the shore line, while the others stayed higher. While scouring the ground for any sign, I came across blood and knew we were on the right trail. Just as I set the bloody leaf down, Jordan, who was a few steps ahead of me, whispered that he saw tips of velvet covered antlers sticking up from the ground. We slowly

approached him and soon realized he had perished.

We gathered around Beamer in awe and amazement.

He truly was more than I imagined. He officially has the widest inside spread on a mule deer ever shot in Saskatchewan. I will never shoot a more jaw dropping, heart stopping deer in my life.

Thanks to my friends and the good lord for all the help. As well as my parents and girlfriend, Jessica, for putting up with my obsession.

Beamer, by the numbers: Inside spread- 36 6/8 (#1 in the Saskatchewan record book) Right Beam- 31 Left Beam- 27 Largest G4- 13 Mass- 43 7/8 Despite missing a G3 he still has a gross typical frame of – 205 2/8 Non-typical points- 25 5/8 Total Gross score- 230 7/8

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We slowly approached him and soon realized he had perished. We gathered around Beamer in awe and amazement. He truly was more than I imagined. He officially has the widest inside spread on a mule deer ever shot in Saskatchewan. I will never shoot a more jaw dropping, heart stopping deer in my life.

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A FOUR PART HARMONY

By Dallas Kaiser

PART 1: TEDDY

The 2017 spring bear season couldn’t come soon enough. Memories of the 2016 season were burned into my mind, and thoughts of my first encounter with a giant black bear that year consumed my year of waiting. He had escaped in the 2016 season, but I was determined to tag him in 2017. It made for a long wait.

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Baits were setup in a soggy 2017 northern Alberta spring and then it was a two week wait until I would have a chance to sit with bow in hand. When I arrived to hunt, conditions weren’t as wet as the baiting trip, but I still managed to get stuck in a creek crossing within 150 yards of my bait. It was no big deal until I realized the winch would not reach any trees that were big enough to do the job! My anticipation to get to the bait and see how much sign was there, check the trail camera and begin to hunt was on the back burner now.

Trying to quietly get unstuck and remain relatively mud free was priority.

Luckily I had an extra tow rope in my quad box that proved to be just long enough! As I continued into the bait site I was concerned with the lack of sign but the barrels explained why. The meat scrap barrel was empty but the oats, dog food and molasses barrel was still full. The contents weighed about 400lbs and after sitting for two weeks it resembled cement instead of sweet porridge. Once I got it flowing out of the hole in the barrel with a stick and changed the memory card in the trail camera, I climbed into the tree stand. I must admit my level of anticipation was a lot lower now than it had been in several weeks and I couldn’t help but wonder how many days it would take for the bears to show up again. I had one other spot setup in the area which was being hunted by a friend of mine so good, bad or ugly I knew that I would be sitting this spot for the weekend.

Even though it felt a lot longer, two hours past before the first bear showed up, it was a mature sow. She walked in like she owned the place and laid down at the barrel. Within thirty seconds, a massive black boar walked out right on her tracks and looked right up at me! He immediately turned and walked straight away from me and my heart sank. He stopped behind some brush and put his nose to work, trying to figure things out. It was obvious the sow smelled better than me and he slowly made his way back in but would only stand facing me beside the sow. He wouldn’t turn or commit to eating but eventually laid down still facing me. After sometime he looked directly at me again, stood up and walked straight away from me again.

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Baits were setup in a soggy 2017 northern Alberta spring and then it was a two week wait until I would have a chance to sit with bow in hand. When I arrived to hunt, conditions weren’t as wet as the baiting trip, but I still managed to get stuck in a creek crossing within 150 yards of my bait.

“My heart sunk even lower than the first time.

As any hunter knows, you only get so many chances at a mature animal and I thought that was my last chance” My heart sunk even lower than the first time. As any trophy hunter knows, you only get so many chances at a mature animal and I thought that was my last chance. However, after several minutes with his nose working overtime, he slowly eased back in to the sow.

The log crib I had made around the barrels seemed to be cramping his style, so he started pulling it apart while slowly opening up his vitals. I came to full draw just as he turned broadside, took my time and released

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the arrow. It hit him perfectly, after a big growl and a bite at the arrow his legs couldn’t carry him out of there fast enough. The brush crashing didn’t last very long but with no visual, my ears were straining to hear a death moan that didn’t come.

After a thirty minute wait, I got down and shortly picked up the blood trail. Blood was abundant but after 150 yards and no body, the tall, thick, rainforest like ferns were a little unnerving in the low light. I decided to call off the search until better light in the morning.

It had been a long day and sleep actually came easy.

The next morning, fifty yards from where I ended my search, the black beast lay facing his back trail. It was all two of us could do positioning him for pictures but well worth the struggle! After I had a chance to review the trail camera pictures, I was surprised I had no pictures of my bear even though I had a lot the spring before. Hunting the rut definitely brought my bear in and allowed me to harvest a tremendous trophy. Even though the hunt only lasted two hours, it was a culmination of eight years of hard work, hunting and learning from the bear woods.

PART 2: THE UNICORN My 2017 elk season had been relatively quiet for the first month of the season. I had a couple close encounters with some spike bulls but that was about it. Elk sightings were few, calls were almost nonexistent, but trail cameras were showing there were elk around.

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On my way home from an 11-hour night shift, I decided to stop and check a trail camera on a wallow that I hadn’t been to in a couple weeks. After I parked, I put on my hunting jacket so I would have my range finder and release, grabbed my bow and took off in my carhartt pants and work boots! Almost immediately, I heard a bugle but given its sound and direction I brushed it off as a fellow hunter. By the time I got to the camera, bugles were more frequent and raspy enough to know it was a real elk. Now I had a dilemma, my calls were sitting useless in my truck.

“Do I go back and get them?” I wondered. Cow calls were revealing the herd was close and the risk of spooking them by leaving and coming back was too high. Partially melted snow that had frozen over night was extremely crunchy and my lack of full, quiet camo made stalking too risky as well. Wind was marginal too. “What to do?” I thought as I sat.

We decided to back out and give the bull some more time, as I needed some sleep anyway. Four hours later, we picked up the trail and went a couple hundred yards when I heard the bull spook in the thick timber.

My heart sank, knowing he was still alive and the blood trail was diminishing and on top of that the snow was all but melted. Now that it was late afternoon we made the decision to leave him until morning. Sleep did not come easy this time. At first light we were back at the bed where we had jumped him. It was slow going, following his tracks more than blood which was down to a drop every 20 yards. After about 200 yards we completely lost any sign of him. We decided to call off the search, not even sure if he was dead or alive. Two days later I went back to check for bird activity and sure enough the raven song lead me to the bull.

Definitely not the way us hunters want a story to end but the reality is it does from time to time.

There appeared to be enough snow free ground to close the distance a bit. 30 yards into my attempt, I spotted a cow staring at me out of range. Within seconds she spooked but went the opposite direction from where the elk chatter was coming from.

Footsteps, bugles and cow talk were now close and getting closer by the second, but I still had no visual, due to thick cover. I came to full draw as the sounds approach my shooting lane. A cow and calf stepped out, staring me down. Knowing the bull was right behind them, I hoped they won’t spook. They didn’t read the script and spooked but luckily continued away from the bull. Immediately, the bull stepped out and I saw he was a legal bull! Before I could make a noise to stop him, he stopped like he had read the script! I guessed him at 40 yards and off goes the arrow. The impact sounded good and he crashed off through the brush. While waiting for thirty minutes to elapse I walked back to my truck so I could call for some help.

A quick look at the bulls rack reveals an unusual pedicle that grows out the center of his skull. I knew this bull existed due to trail camera pictures but had no idea I had shot him until recovery. I was glad I was able to recover his rack if nothing else just because of the uniqueness of the unicorn, and I was happy to use my tag on him and call it a season.

The blood trail could be followed at a steady walking pace and I figured I would have my bull in hand within 100 yards. After tracking for a half mile and still a substantial amount of blood and no beds I had no answers as to why death had not come quickly.

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On my way home from an 11-hour night shift, I decided to stop and check a trail camera on a wallow that I hadn’t been to in a couple weeks.

After I parked, I put on my hunting jacket so I would have my range finder and release, grabbed my bow and took off in my carhartt pants and work boots!

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PART 3: BIRTHDAY BUCK The first three days of my 2017 prairie mule deer hunt were behind me and all though I had some close calls, my tag was still empty.

Numbers of deer and quality of bucks was not

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what it had been a few short years ago, but the chance to get away with my Dad and the challenge of bow hunting prairie mule deer wasn’t going to be missed. Very dry conditions added to the challenge, as landowners were only allowing foot access, if any access at all.

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The fourth and final day of my hunt dawned with some low lying fog that made for a breath taking sunrise. Not to mention it was also my birthday!

Mid way through my 30th hunting season I had yet to harvest anything on that day, so it was in the back of my mind.

Dad and I went for a walk on some new land we had just secured permission on the day before. A couple small bucks and does were all we could spot, even though the day before two bachelor groups totalling 13 bucks were spotted from the road heading into the same hills. We were almost back to the truck for lunch when I spotted a lone, wide framed, bedded buck.

pin where his lower body met the scrub brush and let the arrow do its work. Upon impact the buck growled and started crow hopping out of the scrub brush.

Something wasn’t right, the shot felt good but the arrow struck him far back. Arrow must have deflected off of the brush resulting in the shot contact. Within seconds he was stumbling and falling down.

Just to be prepared for a follow up shot if necessary I ranged him at 54 yards. Sure enough he got back on his feet quartering away from me and staring a hole through me. With nothing to lose I drew back on him, and he never flinched until the arrow struck him perfectly behind the shoulder.

“The hunt was on, Dad stayed back some ways to watch as I circled around to get the wind better and use the rolling terrain to my advantage.”

The hunt was on, Dad stayed back some ways to watch as I circled around to get the wind better and use the rolling terrain to my advantage. It didn’t take long to close the distance to 100 yards but now it was time to slither within range. The buck was bedded in low scrubby brush that grows about a foot and a half high and only his antlers were visible, which is good, because I always knew what his head was doing while stalking in. When I got to the edge of the scrub brush, I ranged his antlers at 20 yards. Now it was a waiting game, so I thought! I have spent many hours, sun or wind burning, shivering and the odd time snoozing while waiting for bucks to stand. Patience was not needed on this set up, he was up and feeding within a few minutes of me getting into position.

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He was broadside, facing straight away like he had read the script. I came to full draw and settled my 20 yard

A 60 yard death run ended with a power slam and my birthday slump was over. After all the miles we had walked during our hunt, we were happy to put the buck down within 400 yards of the road and it was almost all downhill! The buck turned out to be the best we had seen on the hunt, with crazy mass at the bases, five sticker points and tassels of velvet still clinging to his rack added to the character. Happy Birthday to me.

He was broadside, facing straight away like he had read the script. I came to full draw and settled my 20 yard pin where his lower body met the scrub brush and let the arrow do its work. Upon impact the buck growled and started crow hopping out of the scrub brush. Something wasn’t right, the shot felt good but the arrow struck him far back.

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PART 4: FLYER I had not shot a whitetail in the past two seasons. Mature bucks were few and far between, and it seemed as though everything I had seen needed another year or two. My whitetail trigger finger was getting itchy.

Opening day of rifle season showed up along with snow and -20 temperatures and I figured this would get the deer moving more and pull Flyer out of the river bottom brush in daylight hours. I was sitting in a brush blind I had set up in the summer time. It is in a transition zone the deer filter through between their bedding and feeding spots. Before I knew it, nine days had gone by and Flyer had not shown himself.

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In my previous 29 seasons I had only eaten my whitetail tag three times. My anticipation was high that 2017 would be the year a good buck would walk into my life and give me something to concentrate on.

Although a lot of whitetail does call the bush behind my house home, no bucks show up until the rut gets them moving. I couldn’t believe it when the first buck trail camera picture I got behind my house in late October was a shooter. The buck was a nice 5x5 with a flyer off one back tine. Now the question was, “Is he just traveling through or here to stay for the rut?”

A week later, when I checked the camera, I was pleasantly surprised that he was coming through almost every day. The only drawback was all the pictures were in the middle of the night, like most smart, mature bucks.

“The doe that was browsing a short distance away suddenly looked down her back trail. I knew a buck was coming but would it be him? First I saw movement, then legs, followed by a body with horns” Opening day of rifle season showed up along with snow and -20 temperatures and I figured this would get the deer moving more and pull Flyer out of the river bottom brush in daylight hours. I was sitting in a brush blind I had set up in the summer time. It is in a transition zone the deer filter through between their bedding and feeding spots. Before I knew it, nine days had gone by and Flyer had not shown himself.

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Although I was still getting night photos, I knew any day the rut would draw him to does on neighboring properties. Not the end of the world, but the landowners are all hunters that I knew would gladly put Flyer in the freezer! The joys of hunting private land, as many of us know. I had been sitting most mornings and evenings, staring at the same small area and even though I was seeing deer, squirrels seemed to be more active. The evening of November 10th was proving to be no different than the rest, until the last five minutes of legal shooting light. The doe that was browsing a short distance away suddenly looked down her back trail.

I knew a buck was coming but would it be him?

First I saw movement, then legs, followed by a body with horns. Eventually the horns turned into a frame I knew very well and my instincts took over. Flyer was down after 24 hours of sitting my blind!

My 30th hunting season was now complete and it may have been my best in terms of trophies taken.

My freezer is full and a couple other families benefited from the meat as well. I didn’t mention any scores on my animals because I know numbers shouldn’t be the measuring tape of a successful hunt. Being an official measurer, I’ve seen way too many happy, proud hunters go away disappointed after they learn their trophies scores. I was happy with my animals while they challenged me and caused my adrenaline to pump.

And now, when I look at pictures from my 2017 hunts and hold the racks, I can’t help but smile.

PUBLIC LAND

By Dana White

Whitetail hunting is where this entire lifestyle began for me. More specifically, my very first whitetail buck with a bow, at the age of 14, is what truly stole my heart. Don’t get me wrong, I was born and raised into a hunting family, and I always enjoyed it, but it wasn’t until I walked up to that first successful bow kill that I realized how much more important this sport was to me.

Dana White heads north, deep into the heart of Albert’s whitetail country in order to persue the chocolate antlered ‘bush deer’, that call this country home. His unconventional style has proven successful in taking big deer, and the monster buck he took in 2016 is a perfect example! After following the buck through trail cameras for a few years, Dana was able to tag him on his first sit of the year through a combination of preparation, knowledge, time and effort scouting and a little but of luck. To keep up with all Dana’s adventures, be sure to checkout Fatal Impact on WildTV and like them on Facebook.

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Now the deer I harvested in 2016 may not have been a bow kill, but it was a direct result of the chain of events that would unfold in my life ever since that day, ultimately leading me to where I am now.

Things have changed, I’ve grown, but I’ve never stopped learning. Which has led me to a style of whitetail hunting that many of you may not be very familiar with. Anybody who’s hunted in Alberta will understand the challenges of hunting a very specific whitetail buck. 99 times out of 100, that deer will be hunted on private land utilizing food sources and other typical whitetail hunting strategies. But that’s not how we do it.

I had set a goal to try and take a mule deer, bull moose, bull elk and a whitetail all in one season and all with my bow! “Big goals equal big results, I hoped” Believe it or not, I haven’t hunted private land whitetails in nearly five years. Instead, we head as far back into the bush as we can get, in search of GIANT public land bushbucks that many people don’t believe exist. But let me tell you, they do. No food sources, no bait piles, and no designated travel patterns. Just a truly wild whitetail doing exactly what they’ve been programmed to do for centuries, simply survive in the wild.

I remember this day very clearly, it was in August of 2014. The hoard of mosquito’s helped me trek back through the bush to my camera by ultimately picking me up and flying me over the mess of logs and blow downs. In between the constant flailing and muttered swear words, I tried to remind myself why I was out here doing this. I searched through the photos on my

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computer at lightning speed when a picture caught my attention and made me pause. It was a very young

line several times in this new area. Again, it was noted in my mind, and I carried on.

6x5 with great mass and a ton of potential. This was a deer that immediately entered my mental database for up and coming deer. You know, the part of your brain that all deer hunters utilize to remember and vividly categorize every deer of interest. My only issue is that my brain dedicates far too much space to this portion.

In other words, if I were to witness a crime or need to describe a missing person to a sketch artist at the police station, I figure it would come out resembling a kids cartoon character, rather than a real person. But ask me about a specific deer in an area of the bush, and I could recreate it in picturesque detail. I suppose it comes in handy in my profession.

The following year, this same buck showed up like clockwork on the EXACT same scrape, and he had grown substantially, putting on close to 25 inches from last year! As excited as this made me, I still knew he was only 4 at the most, and with other, much older deer in different areas, I decided to spend another year researching this deer by running as many cameras as I could in his area. I was able to keep tabs on him for much of the year, and he was very active in the area.

If he could survive one more winter without becoming wolf poop, I was confident that I could kill this deer.

I knew this deer was far too young to pursue, but I was curious to see what he would turn into in the coming years. As the rut came through, he moved nearly 6 kilometers to the south and I caught him on a scrape-

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Heading into the fall of 2016, there was no other deer that I was more excited about than the “6x5�. Now hunting the bush is slightly different than farmland.

Most importantly, you only have 4-5 weeks to locate a deer and try to kill him. The other 48 weeks in the year, they crawl into a hole and disappear. Literally.

Unless you can find their 200 square yard bedroom,

they’re impossible to find. And in a bush that spans hundreds of square kilometers, you could spend your whole life looking for that bedroom.

since it was only noon, we had decided that we would climb into the stands and see what cruised past for the next four hours.

Historically, this deer never showed up before the first week in November, which only gave me three weeks to hunt him, assuming he did the same thing this year.

And just like clockwork, he showed himself for the first time on November 4th in a slough-bottom that has one of my best community scrapes in the corner. But something was different this year. He had swapped antlers. For the past two years, his 6-point antler had been on his left side. But this year, it was on the right.

Other than that small change, he was identical. In fact, I don’t know if he even grew an inch. He was now 5 years old, and a deer that I was finally ready to match wits with.

You see, there are a few MAJOR differences between hunting farmland deer and true bush deer. And what it all comes down to is a lack of human hunting pressure.

This brings many changes in attitude and behavior.

In fact, they are so different, that I personally don’t even refer to them as the same species. First and foremost, they don’t see humans as danger, because most have never seen a human before. Because we aren’t considered a threat, we don’t have to worry about scent control. They may smell us, but they don’t associate us with danger, so they aren’t afraid.

I had two years of research in the bag, and was confident that I knew where he spent most of his time.

But the biggest obstacle was exactly that. Where he spent most of his time just so happened to be one of the thickets parts of the bush, with next to nowhere to setup without being confined to a small 40 yard shooting radius. And when hunting the bush, the only hope you have is to find a core area, setup where you can cover the most area, and sit for nine hours a day waiting for them to walk by. There’s absolutely no other reason for that deer to walk past your stand, except for the fact that it’s his home. And I suppose if you spend enough time in his living room, eventually he’ll come cruising past. At least that’s what we tell ourselves.

It was November 6th, two days after he showed up on camera for the first time, and my brother Cory and I headed in to setup for him. We spent most of the morning hiking every square inch of where we thought he might spend his time. We were finally able to find a spot on the tail end of his scrapeline that would give us about 100 yard visuals in most directions. We didn’t know if he traveled through here, but it was our best hope of covering ground. By the time we setup our stands, it was noon, and as we sat there eating lunch, we contemplated what we should do next. We had brought all of our gear that morning just in case, and

Secondly, their daylight activity patterns are completely different. Modern farmland deer have been habituated to moving at night to avoid human interaction and to remain safe. Our bush deer haven’t had this influence, so a vast majority of their movement takes place between 10am and 2pm, especially during extreme cold weather. Rather than moving during the coldest part of the day, these deer curl up under thermal cover and ride out the night in safety. As the sun rises in late morning and the temperatures begin to climb, they climb out of their beds, shake off the cold, and begin their daily activities.

“As the sun rises in late morning and the temperatures begin to climb, they climb out of their beds, shake off the cold, and begin their daily activities” For this reason, we very rarely see deer in the first

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or last hour of daylight in the bush. Because of regulations, we are required to be in our stands a full hour before sunrise, but this is when we catch a small snooze before the action picks up around 10. This is also the reason that we very rarely sit until dark in the evenings. The movement drastically falls after 4pm, and is usually when we pack up and head for home as the two hour trip each way begins to take its toll on us.

Now a good day of sitting in the bush for us will entail anywhere from 3-5 deer in a nine hour timeframe.

In fact, over the course of the season, we will average roughly one deer every three hours. Mix those numbers with the blistering cold temperatures of Northern Alberta in November, and you’ll begin to understand why people think we’re crazy. And for the most part, I don’t argue with them.

As we sat in our stands that unseasonably warm November afternoon, we weren’t prepared for what was about to unfold. As 4 o’clock rolled around, we had already seen four deer, which was giving us hope that we were in the right spot for the next few weeks.

It was quickly approaching home time, when we heard a loud crash behind us in the timber. We both spun around to catch a glimpse of a doe crashing through the trees with something behind her. When they stopped, I couldn’t see either deer. My brother Cory was slightly above me and to my left, and as he zoomed in with the video camera, he couldn’t believe what he was seeing on the screen. There he was, in all his glory, and he had just chased a doe to within 100 yards of our stands. This deer had haunted my dreams, and the thought that I would ever lay eyes on him was almost too much to handle. But yet there he was. Our very first day hunting him, and only four hours invested in the stand! He had absolutely no idea we were there.

As his prized doe continued to work her way past our stand, I knew that he had no other choice but to follow.

And just as a baby bear follows his mother around completely oblivious to his surroundings, this buck started following her trail to within 40 yards of us.

As he entered a small shooting lane, the silence was broken by the loud bark of my 30-06. Less than 40

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yards away, he crashed to the forest floor with two perfectly placed holes in his side.

Now anybody who has been fortunate enough to harvest a mature deer in his or her lifetime will understand the rush of emotion that follows.

However, being able to harvest the ONE specific deer that you had your heart set on, I honestly believe is an entirely new level of excitement. The amount of time and effort spent on researching and learning this deer are what makes this hunt so exciting. Yes, there were larger antlered deer in the bush, and likely older deer as well. But this was a deer that I had watched for the past three years, and had obsessed over ever aspect of his life. To be honest, once the initial excitement wore off, I was disappointed. Not in the deer, and not in myself. I was disappointed that the journey was over.

There was something about heading into the bush after this deer that kept a fire burning in my soul; Trying to figure him out, and hoping that he survived the winter, not because I wanted to kill him, but simply because I was cheering for him. I had gotten to know this deer so well, that a small part of me was also cheering for him in our own battle. Although I wanted to harvest this deer more than any other animal that year, a small part of me was hoping he’d survive.

You see, as hunters, we care deeply for the animals we pursue, and when I think about the stories and the memories of hunting this particular deer, the single last moment I relive is the kill. As a matter of fact, I never liked that part. And when I finally laid my hands on this deer for the very first time, the only words that I could muster were “Thank You�.

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NOT BAD AT ALL

By Ben Court

My very first Mule Deer hunt started out on a typical November day in southern Alberta. It was less than ideal conditions, with no snow on the ground, and very windy and cold!

I had drawn this particular tag on the advice of my good friend Derek as he felt the zone would produce a respectable buck and hunting experience. It had been a long seven year wait and I was very excited for the opportunity to finally hunt!

My hunting companions for the day happened to be Derek’s younger brother Brad and my cousin Jarett.

Brad had plenty of mule deer hunting experience and was very familiar with the zone and since Derek was away, he decided to tag along.

Not only do you get two weeks less of scouting, but We had spent the late summer and early fall scouting for a potential shooter buck and on more than one occasion had heard rumor of a large non-typical buck in the area, that a few other locals had been seeing. It took

some more homework and more scouting trips, but we finally were able to locate the buck and, after seeing him on the hoof, I knew this was the buck I wanted! A wide deer with plenty of kickers and we thought there was a good chance he may push 200 inches! “How would that be for my first Mule Deer!?” I thought. We had tried a couple times during the first week of the rifle season to locate the big buck in hopes of connecting on him but he was yet to make an appearance during the hunting season. The rut was almost in full swing and with the hope that it would lure him out of his hiding spot, we set out that morning to try and locate the buck. We had a pretty good idea of the buck’s home range and first light found us hiking up the ridge to the best possible vantage point. For the next two hours, all eyes were focused on the fields,

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draw lines and ridge sides below. The area was littered with mule deer and although there were a few respectable bucks, the big boy was nowhere to be found. Not wanting to risk spooking the deer out of the area, we decided to pack up and check a few other places close by. One of the benefits of hunting open country is the vast amounts of land you can glass from the roads. We covered ground and spotted for the last couple hours of the morning and saw a few decent bucks, but I had waited seven years for the tag and a “decent” buck just wouldn’t do!

It was a bit of a discouraging morning and we all decided we could use some lunch from the local restaurant to help us reset for the afternoon push.

We had a choice to make, do we head back to where the non typical had been hanging out or do we try a different area? Brad mentioned he knew a few spots on the opposite end of the zone that had produced good deer in the past and with the lack of sightings of the big non typical suggested we give the new area a try. With a new plan, and full bellies, we jumped in the truck and headed out. We took our time to glass along the way as we didn’t want to miss any deer. Again we located several “decent” bucks, but the picture of the big non-typical deer we had originally set out for kept popping into my mind, so I turned them down and moved on. I kept thinking, “Maybe I shouldn’t be so picky, and that most of those bucks would be respectable for my first mule deer”, but I hoped my patience would pay off.

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We had had just turned down a back road with the plan of parking a few miles up and hiking over the east ridge to glass a valley below when Brad spotted some deer on the ridge horizon. We pulled over and had just enough to get the spotting scope on them before they headed over the ridge. “There is definitely a good buck in the group,” Brad said as the deer disappeared over the ridge. “He’s not wide by any means but he looks heavy and has good forks all around, definitely worth a closer look,” he said. We decided to head around them to see if we could spot the buck on the opposite side of the ridge. After trying several different spots, we realized there were two ridges and the buck was likely in the middle of them. Our only option was to

hike the two miles up the ridge for a better look. When the idea of hiking through that country was suggested I was a little hesitant, it had been a long day already and I didn’t want to waste so much time on a buck that I was going to pass. I had my mind made up that the big non typical was the deer I wanted. I asked Brad what he thought this buck might score and he simply said he didn’t get a long enough look at it to decide but that it was better than anything we had seen so far that day.

“I didn’t want to waste so much time on a buck that I was going to pass.

I had my mind made up that the big non typical was the deer I wanted” Event onvinced me that it was worth taking a closer look so we grabbed our gear and headed out.

We hiked for several miles to get back to where the buck had disappeared over the ridge, unfortunately for me, I couldn’t find my hiking socks to wear that morning and ended up grabbing an old pair. The result was two big blisters on each heel from the hike. I was trying to decide how much longer I could hike like this when I saw Brad hit the dirt in front of me and motioned that the deer were about 100 yards to the north of us.

The group had spotted us about the same time we spotted them. Fortunately, we were able to get a pretty good look at the buck. Brad figured he would score somewhere in the 180s and said that it was my decision if I wanted to take him or not. My mind kept going back to the big non-typical. It had been almost two weeks since we had seen him and there was a chance we may never see him. A nice typical in the 180s is certainly an impressive mule deer for anyone, let alone a first-time mule deer hunter! The more I looked at him, the more I liked him. With those thoughts in my mind I decided I would try and take this buck. Of course, as soon as I decided this was the

Mount by Shaw Taxidermy

buck I wanted the group of deer got nervous and trotted off to the west behind a hill and out of sight.

We were worried they may head to the opposite side of the valley so we hurried as fast as we could to try and cut them off. As we rounded the hillside we spotted the group of deer about 300 yards below us. I quickly set up as the deer stopped to look back at us, and with the buck in my sights, I took my shot. A clean miss! “I must have shot low!” I thought. We caught a break as the deer took off north, back into the draws on the ridge side. I was disappointed I had missed the shot and was worried I may not get another chance.

We weren’t 100% sure where the deer had gone as we had lost sight of them in the draws and we certainly didn’t want to spook them up anymore than they already were. The wind was in our favor and we decided we would stalk and spot through the draws and hopefully spot them before they spotted us. We slowly worked our way through the small hillsides and I was starting to think the group of deer must have kept going and were long gone. Just as we were about to drop into the last draw, I caught sight of deer on the opposite side of the draw. We quickly belly crawled a

bit farther up in order to get a better view and got the spotting scope on them. It was the same group of deer and they had bedded down on the opposite side of the draw with the big buck just to left of them! The deer were simply too far for a shot from where we were.

“Remembering I had hit low on my first shot Brad reminded me to aim a couple of inches above his back.

We had sighted my 270 in for 200 yards dead on so a couple inches high should hit the mark!”

We thought we may be able to circle around from the west and come in from up above them but that would put us in a bad wind situation and who knows if there were other deer bedded in the bushes above them. We decided our best option was to come around the face of the draw to the east so we were looking up at the deer. “The hillside may just give us enough cover to get closer,” Brad said. We left Jarett a couple hundred yards back to watch the deer while we made our move, as we figured the less movement and noise in the brush the better. We belly crawled as far as we could go until we got to a point that we ran out of cover and could not go any further. We were about 350 yards away.

Not an easy shot, but it was all we could do. We set up on the side of the hill to see what we were up against.

The buck was bedded facing our direction which didn’t give us much of a shot. We were content on waiting for the buck to make a move and used the time to give him a good look over. We both realized that this deer was a lot nicer than we had originally thought and that he may go better than 180! We had time to discuss how the shot was going to go down when the time came.

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Ben Court hunted with some great friends and experienced hunters chasing mule deer through the hills of southern Alberta. It was his first ever mule deer hunt, but was also a draw tag that took seven years to pull! He held out, passing many tremendous bucks until they found the one. Although they knew it was a good buck, they did not know how good, and in fact it is a true monster typical mule deer, grossing 202” and netting over 198”!

Remembering I had hit low on my first shot Brad reminded me to aim a couple of inches above his back.

We had sighted my 270 in for 200 yards dead on so a couple inches high should hit the mark! I settled in to a comfortable laying position and watched the buck through my rifle scope. After about a half hour of waiting, a couple of the does got up and started moving off.

Finally, the buck stood up and slowly turned broadside, Brad gave me the look as if to say, “Take your shot, he’s all yours”. Safety off, a deep breath, couple inches above his back and I pulled the trigger. The buck and the group of does took off away from us and disappeared behind a small hill. I quickly reloaded for another shot if they came out the other side. “Did I hit him, I thought I got him,” I said, and Brad replied, “It sounded like you got him, I am sure you hit him!”

We waited for a minute and watched as all the does emerged from behind the hill and started running up the ridge. No buck in sight!! We quickly gathered up our gear and waited for Jarett to meet up with us.

The we headed down the hill to where the action had unfolded. Jarett had lost sight of the deer as well and could confirm if the buck had gone down or not. We slowly crested the small hill the deer had gone behind and on the other say laid the greatest sight I have ever seen! As we walked up to the buck I could see the look on Brads face and I knew I had shot something special!

We spent the next hour taking field photos of the giant and re living every moment of the hunt! It wasn’t until we put a tape on the antlers that we realized we had under estimated the size of this buck! A gross score of 202 typical inches and a net of 198! Not bad for my first mule deer. Not bad at all!

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SET HER MIND TO THE BOW HUNT!

By Emily Schaad

My story all began back when I was a little girl, when my grandpa and my dad had taken me hunting for the first time. These first hunts led to my first buck harvest in 2004 and my first turkey harvest in 2005. I was always taught to be independent and learn as many things as possible and to never rely on others in pursuing your dreams.

Emily Schaad spent the better part of her childhood learning all the ins and outs of whitetails and whitetail deer hunting. She continued that learning with a degree in Wildlife Sciences, and year after year of experience. All that preparation sure paid off, when in three consecutive years from 2015 until 2017, she tagged three tremendous Ohio whitetails!

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From that time forward, I knew that I was going to be addicted to the hunting sport and even want to pursue a career in the wildlife field.

All the years between 2005 and 2015 led up to my success as a hunter. Graduating with a degree in wildlife sciences from Hocking College in 2012 gave me an abundance of knowledge on wildlife management, white-tailed deer, and forestry; which allowed me to better understand the needs of the white-tailed deer in their habitat and formed me into a much better bow hunter.

Being a young woman in hunting, I made it a point to be able to do everything on my own from setting up and tuning my bow, building my own arrows, stand placement, trail camera setups, building mineral sites, feeding, white-tail deer management, and learning how to pattern mature bucks. I have learned that in order to be successful in this sport, you have to live and breathe it 365 days a year.

Finally, being out of college and in the workforce for a year, I was able to accumulate and then take vacation time in order to hunt. I felt like I had waited years for that moment to come! So in 2015, I finally made it happen. In the spring, I had plenty of time after work and on weekends to shed hunt, which allowed for most of the sheds I have found to date and my largest shed which was 82 inches! I was also able to take a week off for the Ohio turkey season and was able to harvest a nice gobbler on the very last day of season. In the fall of September, 2015, I was able to travel to Idaho to the Clearwater National Forest to meet my dad for a week-long bear hunting adventure. This trip was amazing and I was able to harvest a nice black bear on my third day.

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That year, everyone was calling me lucky due to my success in all of my hunting endeavors. I was worried though, that my luck would run out, but on November 9, 2015, the unexpected happened. I was fortunate to be able to take the whole week of the 9th off to bow hunt during the peak of the Ohio rut. I was hoping to land my eyes on a 14 pointer that I had been watching since June, but didn’t know what would come along since it was that peak time period.

I was able to get in the tree stand one-half hour before day light, hoping I wouldn’t jump any deer on the way in. Once settled in the stand, the action happened almost immediately! I could barely see through the dark woods, but noticed a mature doe heading right up to my stand.

“I was worried though, that my luck would run out, but on November 9, 2015, the unexpected happened!”

The doe had been around my stand feeding for about 20 minutes when a small buck got on the trail of that doe and chased her off. That doe was definitely in heat because every buck up to 120 inches came right to my stand on the same trail.

Later in the morning, around 9:00 a.m., I heard what sounded like a whole herd of cattle headed my direction. Six does came running up the hillside to my left

and came to about 50 yards in front of me and stopped.

I knew a buck had to be chasing them but had no idea of his size. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, I could hear a buck grunting on the other side of the brush to my left. He knew the does were out ahead of me but he didn’t know where and would not come out into the opening in order for me get a good look at him.

I pulled out my Primos doe bleat and held it on the other side of me, hoping to get his attention.

He heard the bleat and immediately started heading my way. Unfortunately, he decided to go behind my stand instead of coming out in front of me so I wasn’t able to get a shot at him. The buck was a 140 class dark chocolate racked 10 point. That buck had one thing on his mind and finally caught a glimpse of the does out to my right and he took off and never looked back.

I watched him catch up with the does and noticed another big buck giving him the stare off. In the matter

of seconds, both big bucks were locked and were in the nastiest buck fight I had ever seen. At one point in time, they were both on the ground rolling each other through the woods! I was in such amazement that I forgot to even video it.

After all of the action settled down and both bucks took off, I thought my morning was probably over.

Around 10:00 a.m., I decided to get my phone out and see what other people had been seeing that morning.

As soon as I swiped my phone on, I heard loud, fast walking coming from behind me. I turned around and in amazement that 10 point that wouldn’t give me shot earlier in the morning was coming back! I quickly shoved my phone in my pocket, nearly threw my gloves off and he was already at my stand.

I drew back and stopped him at 13 yards and made the shot. I watched the arrow penetrate a little high but right behind the shoulder and watched the buck all

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the way to where I couldn’t see through the woods any farther. I was worried about the shot so I went back to the house and waited until 11:00 before going back.

Thankfully, my good friend Shane was done hunting as well and was able to help me look for him. Once we got to the stand, we started to look for blood but couldn’t find any, so we decided to follow the kicked up leaves instead. It wasn’t five minutes after we started looking, that and I could see a white stomach lying right where the two bucks were fighting earlier. My excitement was so great that I quickly took off running towards the deer. It was such an amazing feeling knowing that I had done everything on my own in order to kill that buck and God helped me make it happen. The buck had a beautiful dark chocolate rack and gross scored around 140.

After an amazing 2015 hunting season and a lot of answered prayers that led to so much success, I knew that I had to make 2016 even better and work even harder. The year 2016 started out great when I found several sheds off of bucks that I had been watching all 2015 season including a buck that would have grossed in the mid 150’s. I began early in the spring planting a food plot and starting mineral sites in order to get the bucks started off right. Using Evolved Harvest Throw & Grow food plot seed, Trophy Rock, and Imperial Whitetails 30-06 mineral, the bucks were definitely beginning to show. Once again it was already November and my second week of November vacation was just around the corner. I had my Mathews Heli’M dialed in and was ready for the rut. November 7th was my first day of hunting and things started off slowly.

All week I was jumping between all three of my stand locations on different properties trying to find the right stand where most of the action was taking place. In the middle of the week, I concentrated most of my time in a stand location in a saw timber sized white pine strip with a large clover field behind me and a clear 50 foot wide, long open strip in front of me surrounded by oak woods. I was after a large five year old eight point, and had seen him several times, but he ended up breaking one whole side off after the night with my closest encounter with him.

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Emily Schaad spent the better part of her childhood learning all the ins and outs of whitetails and whitetail deer hunting. She continued that learning with a degree in Wildlife Sciences, and year after year of experience. All that preparation sure paid off, when in three consecutive years from 2015 until 2017, she tagged three tremendous Ohio whitetails!

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The end of the week was finally here, and I only had two days left of my hunting vacation. My dad had called me and told me that he had been seeing several good bucks at his farm and that I could come out there and give it a try that Saturday. That day, I drove out to his place around 2:00 p.m. and sat in a ground blind behind a nice food plot. All I could think about was how awesome it would be for a buck to show up like the one my dad had killed during the previous month, and in the same blind, that grossed 175”! I was exhausted from waking up so early all week and spending countless hours in the stand, that I found myself taking a short nap in the blind. I quickly made myself focus because, knowing my luck, a deer would come along while I was asleep.

“I slowly got my bow ready and the buck stopped broadside, right in the middle of the food plot, 32 yards away” Around 5:00 p.m., I heard something walking very quickly to the food plot through the dense oak leaves. I peeked around the edge of the window and there, coming straight to the food plot, was the giant buck that my dad had told me about. I slowly got my bow ready and the buck stopped broadside, right in the middle of the food plot, 32 yards away. Luckily, he started eating so I could finish getting ready to take the shot. I awkwardly drew back in the blind and my arrow fell off my arrow rest. The buck looked right at me but quickly went back to eating. I was able to let down, fix my arrow and redraw my bow for the shot. I put my 30 yard pin right where I wanted it and let my Carbon Express arrow and Rage broad head combination fly. I was in such an awkward position in the blind, that my string wacked the sleeve of my jacket and deflected my arrow a foot back from where I was aiming! I was so afraid that I wouldn’t find this giant buck.

I went back to the building and told my dad what

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had happened. We waited a few minutes and went back to start looking. I told him where the buck had went and we quickly started following the massive blood trail. I was in absolute amazement when we walked over the bank behind the food plot and there he laid in the ravine, 30 yards from where I shot him! I felt like a piano had been lifted off of me and I took off over the bank towards him. The buck was a gorgeous 11 point with long tines and long beams and gross scored 165 2/8” making it my largest buck to date! It was hard to believe that two giant bucks were killed out of the same blind a month apart and both looked almost identical to the other.

I thought that I could even come close to a buck of that caliber in 2017, but I gave it my all in 2017 to try to make it happen. Soon enough, the 2017 shed season had arrived and I had my eyes set to find the sheds off of a mid 160’s giant that I had been watching all late season. Unfortunately, the weather in February warmed up and all the bucks were not relying on my food source and that buck dropped his antlers on a property that I could not go on. Not long after that buck had lost his sheds, I focused on the other side of the road where it was a thick bedding area. I walked along the thick ridge and found the largest set of antlers lying side by side that I had ever found! The antlers grossed in the low 160’s.

“Soon enough 2017 turkey season had arrived and I was able to harvest my largest bird to date weighing 21lbs. with a 9 inch beard” Soon enough, 2017 turkey season had arrived, and I was able to harvest my largest bird to date weighing 21lbs. with a 9 inch beard. Before I knew it, September was here and it was time for my two week Idaho horseback riding and hunting trip. I spent two

weeks in the wilderness of the Clearwater National Forest and heard a lot of elk and saw a lot of bears but just couldn’t seal the deal. Coming back to Ohio, I had high hopes on a couple of different bucks that would both score over 150” for the upcoming season. I had hung a new stand on the edge of a large, thick bedding area right next to an oak patch where I had found the big set of sheds that spring. I had high hopes for this stand and was hoping I could see that buck during the upcoming season.

November quickly came and my week long vacation was set to start on the 6th. The first couple days were horrible. Between warm weather and extreme rain, I wasn’t even able to go out the first two mornings.

Feeling bummed that my week was going to be over before I knew it, Wednesday arrived and the weather finally cleared out and it was close to freezing that morning. I woke up early, gathered my bow and set off for the woods. I decided to hunt at my new stand because my cameras had been showing heavy morning activity, and since it was such a thick area in front of me, I knew big bucks would feel comfortable showing up.

I made it into the stand in plenty of time before daylight and once settled in; I could hear something right behind me tearing up the sumacs in the brush.

Once it was finally daylight, I was turned around for what felt like a half hour trying to get a visual on the buck behind me. The only thing I could see was the brush moving since it was so high, but never a deer.

Finally, about 70 yards out, I could see antlers moving through the brush but thought it was the old eight point I had been seeing. I grabbed out my Primos bleat and my Extinguisher grunt call and performed a calling sequence facing away from the buck.

“I grabbed out my Primos bleat and my Extinguisher grunt call and performed a calling sequence facing away from the buck” 49

That quickly got his attention and he grunted and snort wheezed once and started coming right to me.

Once he stuck his head out of the brush, I knew he was a giant. He bumped the doe out of the brush and pushed her to the base of my tree. I turned and was ready to draw at any moment but he was too close to my stand and would have to shoot straight down on top of him. I waited for several minutes and he finally turned and started to head back away from me towards the doe to the right of my stand. At that moment, I carefully drew back, not wanting to spook the doe, and took the shot. I made a perfect shot and I watched the buck run out into the field behind me and crash at 70 yards. At that moment, I knew I had never seen that buck before but knew he was wide and incredibly massive.

I walked back to the house and made a couple of phone calls and asked the neighbor for permission to get him out of his field. I then made my way out in the field and put my hands on the most massive buck I had ever killed. I thanked God once again for blessing me with

such an incredible animal. My new Carbon Express Maxima Mathews Edition arrows that I had just built along with the Rage SS broad heads were definitely a lethal pair and both stayed in perfect condition after the shot. The buck field dressed at 204 pounds and gross scored at 161 1/8� and had five inches of mass clear to the ends of his beams! I was once again very blessed that my 2017 season closed on such a good note.

My success at this sport would not be possible without hard work, dedication, and answered prayers. I strive to be better every year and push myself to the max. I wake up every day wondering what I could do to be better or what management I could do to see larger bucks. I believe that if every hunter, especially women, set their mind to the bow hunting sport, the quality of deer hunting everywhere could improve and everyone could have success. Once again, I’m looking forward to the next season and praying that 2018 can be as great as the last three years!

CRABBY, BY DESIGN

By Hailee Daniels

I’ve often wondered if hunting is something that’s genetically coded into certain people, or if it’s something that is so natural to some that it feels that way, but I really never knew who I was or what I wanted in life until I found hunting.

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This all started with a buck we named “Email�. I had my heart set on a buck. I had harvested a big mature doe the season before, became hooked on the whole lifestyle, and wanted to put my mind and efforts into a little more involved season of hunting. Though my husband and I were both hunting him, I really tried my damndest to be the one who got him.

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Whitetail deer hunting is really what opened my world up to the most earth shattering emotions I have ever felt, whether it was pride, disappointment, sheer excitement, or devastation. I have my spouse, Eric, to thank for truly involving me in this amazing thing that we share.

Eric really took a passion and turned it into a lifestyle, and was more than willing to allow me to be part of it. From showing me how to set stands, to how to run mineral sites, to finding where deer like to be and what they desire, to encouraging me to change my career path to a job that I adore (Running an archery shop at Chesher’s Outdoor Store). The job I love has really allowed me to involve myself fully in all aspects of hunting too, rather than just being someone that sits in a stand. I really don’t know if he expected me to become such an involved participant, but I think it’s safe to say that I have developed as strong, or even stronger, feelings about whitetail hunting than he has. I will be forever grateful for everything that he has shown me,

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and particularly, for giving me what I needed to succeed on my own. He truly pushed me to spend the time learning what I needed to do in order to find a buck we named Crabby, learn his personality and habits, and ultimately to bring him home.

This all started with a buck we named “Email”. I had my heart set on a buck. I had harvested a big mature doe the season before, became hooked on the whole lifestyle, and wanted to put my mind and efforts into a little more involved season of hunting. Though my husband and I were both hunting him, I really tried my damndest to be the one who got him. I went on every scouting mission, we ran cameras together, I left work early and took days off to make sure our stands were perfect and I knew absolutely everything about each one. Eric was fortunate to have harvested an incredible deer we named “Limbhanger” in the first three weeks of the season. He went out one morning in October, after I forced him out of bed and threatened to go out if he didn’t get up NOW! The 193 4/8”, nine year old

stud came strolling in to a grunt call that was meant to bring Email in. We had a brand new baby at home, who REALLY didn’t like to be away from Mom. It made for a nerve racking season that was full of extra emotion on both of our parts, and an immense amount of sacrifice. Eric was at home one night, the baby was in awful spirits and he was at his wit’s end. I was in one of our favourite stands in a hardwoods block, having jumped Email multiple times or just missing him by minutes of shooting light in previous weeks, I felt good about the conditions. I just finished telling Eric I would get down and come home to help with the baby, when I heard some thrashing. “Don’t you dare get down, you stay there and we are fine!” he said back to me. About 45 yards in front of me I could see a small ash tree swaying in the distance. “Buck here” I responded to him, and put my phone in my pocket.

Then I saw antlers come up to the lower branches, and I watched the buck absolutely destroy this small tree.

“It’s Email!” I stood up, one hand on my bow.

I watched with my teeth clenched, heart racing, WILLING that buck to move my way. After 10 or so minutes, the buck finally made its way toward me, and, Ugh, it was not Email. “But this buck is pretty too!” I thought. I had never been in front of a buck by myself to judge before, so I pulled my phone out and snapped some pictures. He had phenomenal mass and looked muscle-bound, but he looked young as well.

“I stood up, one hand on my bow. I watched with my teeth clenched, heart racing, WILLING that buck to move my way” I couldn’t decide, so I sent Eric a message. “Is he a shooter? Do you think he’s old enough? What do I do!”

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Eric told me to use my best judgement. If he makes my heart race and I’m happy to put a tag on him, take him.

I stared at that deer for five minutes, and finally decided he was a great first buck. I pulled my bow down, drew, and brought my pin down on his shoulder.

I hit the safety on my back tension, revelled in the fact that I did all of this and he had NO idea I was there!

Just as I started to squeeze, I thought, “STOP! He’s not who I’m here for and I think he’s too young.” I went to let my bow down. And I forgot to put the safety back on. THWANG! The bow released my arrow. “NOOO! I thought, and could see the arrow hit the buck in “no man’s land”, high in the middle of the back. He looked up at me, eye contact from a gorgeous 8 pointer with a very prominent Crab claw on his right main beam.

He leapt off into the woods as I sat there, heartbroken. Fast forward to the next day, and he was okay. We tracked him the following morning, found the arrow within 40 yards, and he was back on our camera later that night. It was an awful experience that ended well, despite my proclamation to never hunt again, I was shaken but happy to see him again the next time I sat in the stand, and the next day. The following week, three times we crossed paths again. Again, the week after that, and every week until the season ended.

I swear to God that that deer knew he was safe, because EVERY SINGLE TIME I sat in a stand for the rest of that year, it didn’t matter where, I saw Crabby! I threatened friends, neighbors and family within a 10 KM radius of the block - If you see this deer, I have passed on him sixty eight times.. pleeeeeease do the same! It became a running joke with Eric and his cousin, every time they sat they would text me a picture of Crabby, “Your deer’s here” and I would groan, but he would survive.

I was SO CLOSE to Email far too many times that year. Because Eric had tagged out so early in the year, I was able to spend more time in a tree stand than anyone should have been afforded the opportunity to.

I got within 60 yards of another incredible deer we never saw again called Junior, my very best friends both harvested beautiful 3.5 year old bucks that year,

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their first archery deer, and within 20 minutes of each other! Still, despite all of my efforts and all of my time in the tree stand, and all the close calls, there was nothing for me. I had one last swing at the ball the day before the shotgun season started, I sat in the stand that Limbhanger was taken out of on a fresh cut corn field at the start of the rut.

“It was heaven for a whitetail hunter! The clock wound down, the only deer I DIDN’T see that day was Email” It was heaven for a whitetail hunter! The clock wound down, the only deer I DIDN’T see that day was Email.

That is until I got out of the stand after shooting light. He was on a scrape 30 yards from my tree, and I jumped him off of it. Email died in the shotgun hunt

the following morning. I have never experienced such soul-crushing devastation as I did when I got the news.

I had no idea that I could get so emotionally attached to something that I was hunting. I had so many hours invested in that deer. But, alas, the woods are wild, and so are the deer.

I was driven. The fire was lit, and I was hell bent and bound. I was going to work harder than I had ever worked, and dedicate even MORE of my time and energy to getting on a good buck the following year.

We planted plots, we worked on mineral sites, we ran as many cameras as we could, we watched our boys grow and followed their tracks all spring, summer, and into the early fall. And lo and behold, Crabby was a STUD this year. I said to my husband, “I want him. I don’t care what I have to do, he’s the one I want. I will not take another deer.”

I had opportunities on a couple of young bucks, and passed on them along with countless does, I had shot

opportunity on an old buck we’ve had on the farm for years, we call Low 8. He’s kind of like an old friend now. I was teased and made fun of regularly for never shooting anything even though I’m always in the woods. Billy, my boss and the owner of Chesher’s, would constantly say that I was plagued with, “Empty Freezer Syndrome”. The third week of October, I somehow managed to convince my husband to take the kids to daycare so I could hunt the morning. It was cool, and SO foggy. I sat until 9:00 am and decided it was futile. I couldn’t see 20 yards and it was getting late, I had to get to work.

Almost immediately after I stood up and took my release off the bow, I heard that heart thumping, adrenaline pumping, soul sparking “mrrp” to my left.

I could just see the tree line on the corn field edge, and the fog was starting to pull away more and more.

“Mrrp… Mrrrpp..” I could hear branches breaking, and it was right under me. Thump..thump..thump..thump.

I thought it was the biggest deer in the entire world

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coming, but that was just my heart pounding in my ears. After another snap, some heavy rustling, out he comes! THE smallest fawn in the world. “Mrrp”, and he walked into the corn stubble, grazing happily. My blood pressure returned to normal after a minute or so, and just as I started to sit down again, he walked out! It was Crabby. He was 22 yards from me, and started to make a rub on an oak tree. I was stoic. After the adrenaline surge from the fawn, I felt so calm. I ranged him, put my release on the string, and brought the bow up. He rubbed that tree FOREVER. He finally turned to come in to the field, and looked so beautiful. He had pieces of rubbed tree bark hanging down over his eyes from his brow tines. I drew the bow back, said to myself, “You are going to make such a pretty mount”, as he turned broadside for me.

“YES! I’ve got him,” I thought. Just as I hit the safety, a doe stepped out about 30 yards down the tree line.

He took two big whitetail leaps toward her, and I hesitated, figuring he’s ten yards farther, and since I’m already drawn decide that I should put my pin just a

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little higher on his shoulder, “Meh!” I thought I said it calmly, but I think I must have screamed it.

“I drew the bow back and said to myself, “You are going to make such a pretty mount”, as he turned broadside for me” He stopped dead in his tracks, everything goes exactly as I plan. I start to squeeze the release, the shot is executed perfectly, I watch my arrow fly. NO! The arrow hits EXACTLY where I settle my pin, too high!

It was supposed to drop another couple of inches!

“HOW DID I JUST SCREW THIS UP!?” I instantly break into a sweat. He was not as far as I thought. I called Eric, “I messed up. I need you to come home.”

03*(*/"-

My best friend Brittany and my husband met me at the field edge an hour later. I knew it was a bad shot, I didn’t know if he was dead, I didn’t know what to think.

I was a wreck. We searched for an hour before we even found any blood. We finally found a spot, then a small trail, and then a large pool of blood. We followed the trail for a hundred yards or so, he stopped bleeding heavily after a couple hundred. We followed him by his track for an eternity. We lost it on a rock cut, and he was gone. That buck I had dreamt about, fantasized about, talked nonstop about, and spent more hours passing on than hunting anything else was gone. I quit hunting that day. Hung my equipment up, I didn’t sleep for five days. Finally, he showed back up in front of Eric one afternoon while he was out looking for an opportunity on another buck. Eric convinced me to try again, after deciding he wasn’t badly wounded and passed on him. Mistakes happen, and he’s giving me another chance. I saw that deer more times on the hoof in shooting range than most people saw deer for the season. He was either facing me directly, facing directly away from me, standing just outside of shot range, coming in as I was walking out, on a laneway on my way in, or with something in the way of the shot.

I refused to take anything but a perfect shot at him because of our previous interactions.

without the wind chill. I waited until 9:30 and couldn’t take the pain in my hands anymore. I heard SNAP behind me as I was deciding it was time to go. Like a good whitetail hunter, I turned in my seat to look behind me, and there he stood at 40 yards, and he just watched me turn around in my seat. “Buh-Bye!” I say as he bursts out of sight, and I didn’t see him the next couple of days as I hunted that same stand for a week. The last day of the season, I told my husband I wanted to go to the stand he’d been hunting. “Could we switch?” It was 3:30 in the afternoon, when I get a text message. “I’m so sorry babe. He’s here.” Eric was hunting the stand I had hunted the last 7 days! He snapped a couple of pictures and sent them to me, and that was the end of my 2016 season. Once again, I dedicated every waking moment to finding that deer. I dreamt about him daily. Talked about him constantly. I spent almost as many hours in the woods looking for his sheds as I did trying to hunt him. I managed to find one side the very last time I went out. I practiced more than ever with my bow to make sure nothing could stop me again. Everyone I know, friend or acquaintance, knows about Crabby and our relationship. People online that I barely know asked about him regularly. He consumed my time , my energy and my entire existence and I loved it.

“I refused to take anything but a perfect shot at him because of our previous interactions”

The 2017 whitetail season rolls around. Crabby has put on an easy 15-20” of mass and length. I have been on top of this deer at every turn. I KNOW where he is.

I KNOW what he’s doing. I’m convinced I have him patterned, despite constantly being told they aren’t patternable in our area. Two weeks into the season, the wind switched to all south and I had Eric hang an ambush stand down wind of the site while I was at work, so I could try to hunt a wind I’ve never hunted there before. I KNEW he would be there. So much so that I told people that day that he would come rolling in to eat as soon as the weather cleared in the afternoon. He had to. He’s Crabby. This is what Crabby does. The tail end of a hurricane was rolling through the province that night, and despite Eric pleading with me not to go, I found myself in a tree stand. I was soaked, holding on with all my might to the tree to keep the wind and hail from knocking me out of it. 90

Every waking moment I spent in the tree stand. I am fortunate that my place of work is a hunting store and my co-workers understand my obsession. We shared afternoons and they gave me the most leeway out of anyone. My boss was incredibly empathetic as well, and was checking wind conditions before I had a chance to most days.

It came down to the last couple days of the season, when we got a MASSIVE cold snap. It was -35c

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kilometer an hour gusts, thunder, lightning, driving rain. Finally, at 5:30, the weather cleared. I texted Eric and said, “He’s not comin’.” and forgot to hit send, because all of a sudden there was antlers coming through the trees. “That’s him, Crabby is here and this is actually going to happen! He has NO idea I’m in this tree!” I think. I drew my bow, that pin was as solid as I have ever held, there was no hesitation in drawing, I’ve been practicing so much. I shoot the arrow and it hit perfectly. “YES! THAT’S THE SPOT!” I say as I watch him turn on his heel and disappear into the treeline. I texted my boss, who’s been along the way the entire time, giving me the time I need to get on the deer that taunts every moment of every day, “I JUST SHOT CRABBY!”. I called Eric, “Crabby was just here! I just shot him! The shot looked really good!!!!”

He came straight over. And to make a long, terribly disappointing story short - I have no idea what happened. The arrow didn’t penetrate, and there was no blood. I was insistent that the shot was perfect. He HAS TO BE DEAD. Not a single drop.

“The arrow didn’t penetrate, and there was no blood. I was insistent that the shot was perfect. He HAS TO BE DEAD. Not a single drop” I learned later that the arrow hit his shoulder and just didn’t go anywhere. There was a small scab and that was the only remnant of that evening left, aside from the absolute misery that plagued me for the next few weeks. I never saw him again at that stand.

I had no idea if he was alive. I didn’t know where to look or what to do. I went out every night at dusk to look for birds. I took the bike through the woods to try and smell that pungent scent. I walked every inch of the bush and followed tracks for miles hoping to

catch sight of him on the hoof. He was nowhere. I just couldn’t believe it. I wasn’t hunting anymore. Enough was enough. I can’t believe I have to relive this and I’ve lost this deer. Again.

I took a couple of cameras out to frequented areas to see if I could get another photo of him. Clinging to blind hope based solely on the fact that I hadn’t been able to find him dead. That night, a gorgeous deer came through on our cell camera in the hardwoods block I had seen Crabby in so many times before.

“Eric! Look at this deer. It looks so much like Crabby!”

“Hail, that’s him!” was his reply. “It can’t be. He has to be dead,” I thought, but it was! I didn’t want to believe him, or the camera. But it really was! Crabby has an awesome kicker on his G2 that was a dead giveaway.

“I HAVE ANOTHER CHANCE!” I thought. I don’t know how or why, or what I’ve done to deserve it, but I had another chance.

I watched him for a couple of weeks, everything was at night, so I let him get comfortable again. The wind was NEVER good. I waited and waited until it was perfect. He started to come through that stand between 7:30 am and 11:00 am. Finally, the next morning it was a north-east wind. It was -5 after a string of warm weather. Everything was perfect. I sat there and WILLED him to come. I could imagine him walking through the trail ahead of me, nose to the ground on the scent of a doe. And I could hear some movement out in front of me. Just like clockwork at 8:15 a.m., he came down the common trail I’d seen so many deer on before. This was the hardwoods stand where it had all started. Where I had passed on him endless times before. It was like coming home. He walked into the open, came to the turning point where I would get a shot. And froze. He stared at the stump we had been putting apples on for 7 or 8 minutes. Just stared.

Facing me head on. And then he turned and left. I didn’t understand. This was supposed to work. He didn’t come back to that stand that night. I hunted the next morning and sat for 7 solid hours. No Crabby. I went home for lunch, long enough to scarf a sandwich down and throw some more apples in the back of the bike. I ran back to the stand to re-bait it, as I had intentions of hunting a different stand for the

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afternoon. And 50 yards from my setup, was another setup. That hadn’t been there this morning? Another hunter had set up a bait and camera within 50 yards of mine. Queue the meltdown.

Well this is no good.. I told Eric there has to be a pattern, I think he’s using the back field to head to the marsh to bed for the day. If I can’t get on him in the morning I HAVE to find where he is in the afternoon.

The shotgun hunt is in two weeks and I can’t lose that deer. Not this way. Eric reiterated, “That deer is everywhere Hail. There’s no patterning him. You’re going to make yourself crazy.” I’m going to head back and sit in the Limbhanger stand. I just feel like I know he will be there. On my walk in, I jumped Crabby making a scrape on the tree line bordering the laneway to the field I was heading for. He bolted into the woods, and I was so mad at myself. BUT, my plan worked. He was exactly where I thought he would be. I decided to sit anyway, and had the neatest experience of my life. About half an hour before sunset, I had a group of does come in to the field. They were grazing, and one was getting dangerously close to walking in to my wind. I was watching her very closely, and could tell she had caught wind of something. I started to reach for my bow. “If she starts to blow,” I thought. She started to load up on her back legs like only a whitetail can do, the hackles on her neck raising, and then all four of their head snapped at once to the west. Huh? I couldn’t quite see that far up the field, so I leaned forward and looked around the tree.

CRABBY! He’s 80 yards from me! He’s here! “Mrrp”, he’s grunting and heading right for these does. I grabbed my bow and load up, hoping for the best. He started on a slow trot for them, and one of the does blows, “FSSSSHHHHTTTTH”. They all bolt, and he goes SCREAMING past me after the one that I had been watching. I grabbed my grunt tube, waited until they were out of sight, and let out a couple of aggressive grunts. SMASH, CRUNCH-CRUNCHCRUNCH, out he comes again at 60 yards. He’s heading straight for me again, ears back and he looks MAD. I get ready again, just to see another, smaller 8 point crash out of the woods on the opposite side of me.

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They start to square up, and eventually take off after each other in the woods. THAT WAS THE COOLEST! I saw him again the following afternoon. He came out 60 yards further up the tree line and winded me at 3 o’clock in the afternoon.

When I got home that night, I said to Eric, “I know what he’s doing now. I know I can kill him this week, but I can’t hunt that stand on this wind.” The wind was bad the week for BOTH stands, so I did the only thing I could do. I called Billy and asked if I could borrow a crossbow from the shop. I was going to sit on the ground in that field, and I was going to take that deer.

He will be there. I know he will.

I told my boss what my plan was, and he agreed that I needed to get in to that field, and now. I left an hour earlier than I usually do and headed for the field.

There’s an old pallet blind that had collapsed, the roof is caved in and the floor is completely rotten. I decided I was going to sit in it for cover, and hope that Crabby did the same thing he’d done three days in a row now.

I spent a few minutes cleaning some branches out of the front of the makeshift blind, got in and realized I forgot a chair. Luckily there was an old 5 gallon pail in there that I used as a seat. I set up the crossbow, checked the scope and looked around the field. This feels pretty good! I was texting my friend Jen letting her know I had left the store early and I wouldn’t be around cause I was hunting. I told her the story about the other stand showing up, and how nervous I was about the shotgun hunt the following week. I looked out the left side of the blind and realized there was a branch in my way.

If, for any reason, I had to shoot that way this was no good. I grabbed a bolt and leaned out the window, trying to pull the branch toward me. As I reached out in front of me, I realize it’s too far. The something catched my eye, and its Crabby! He just stepped out of the tree line, and he’s looking STRAIGHT UP into the tree stand I usually hunt out of. One of the straps had unwound from the tree and was blowing in the wind.

Here we go. I lean back in quickly and plant myself on the pail. I’m terrified that I just blew him out of the field, so I slowly lean forward. He’s coming, and fast.

with tears. I finally managed to do this. I picked up the phone, called Eric. My in laws had just dropped the kids back off to him after having them overnight. I hadn’t been gone from the house for any more than 20 minutes! “Eric, he’s down.” “What? What do you mean he’s down?”, I took a shaky breath and sobbed, “He’s down Eric. I just shot. He’s not even 60 yards from me and he’s down!”

His head’s down and he’s about to walk out right in front of me! I waited until he was a step from where I needed him, centered him up in the crosshairs, and said, “Meh.” Quietly this time, no yelling. I took a big breath in, he looked right at me. His ears went back, and his tail flicked. “FFFFFFFFWAAAAAACK”. The crossbow shot the bolt. I watch it penetrate, and exit.

“His ears went back, and his tail flicked.

“FFFWAAACK”. The crossbow shot the bolt.

I watch it penetrate, and exit” He lunges forward and makes a huge circle in the field about 80 yards, and then doubles back and swings in to the tree line. I see him stop, take a couple of steps, and go down. I can hear him thrashing. “Jen, I just shot Crabby!” I answered her last message. It was less than a minute from the previous message, and I read it again, “If someone takes him in the shotgun hunt next week I won’t forgive myself, I can’t let that happen.”

I could still hear him thrashing, and my eyes welled

I was completely and utterly in shock. I texted my Billy, “He’s kicking. He’s down!” “What?” was his reply, as I forgot that I hadn’t told him. “Crabby! I just shot him! He’s kicking! He’s down!” Eric told me to stay put while he found someone to watch the kids.

I called my best friend Brittany, who had been there every single time anything had happened with that deer, “Britt, I just shot Crabby. He’s finally down. He’s finally coming home!” And we both cried. She came straight over to watch the kids so that Eric could help me with my deer. When Eric arrived, I couldn’t hold it together. We walked in to the field, found the bolt and we knew it was done. He hugged me hard and said, “I knew you could do it.”. I looked right at him and said, “Do you believe in patterns yet?” We walked to the tree line, and I was looking on the ground for a blood trail to follow. Eric said, “Hail.. Look up.” He was right there. He was down not 20 yards away, and on top of the log that Eric’s first doe had died on so many years before that. Eric was filming, and I fell apart. I cried, I felt so many different emotions.. Guilt, knowing I would never see this deer on the hoof again. Amazing pride. I had done this MYSELF. I had finally made it happen. Fierce respect for the incredible animal that lay in front of me. Eric filmed the recovery and I can’t express how thankful I am to have that memory eternalized. I spent a long time on my knees in front of him, looking over every square inch of his beautiful face, his antlers, his ears, and his body. Hundreds of people that followed the story congratulated me, and I didn’t know how many people really followed along with my trials and tribulations until that happened.

This deer was the ultimate challenge, despite some mistakes along the way. Although he is not a monster, he is a truly inspiring creature. He will be the most amazing story that I will ever tell.

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DOUBLE HEADER

By Reese Anderson

2017 was a year that I will never forget and will have a difficult time living up to! I managed to tag two target whitetails. I tagged my first buck in the muzzleloader season.

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Reese Anderson had a season to remember in 2017, tagging two tremendous whitetails. He had captured both the big deer on his trail camera, and tried to setup his brother and Dad on the second one, but just happened to be in the right place at the right time and ended up tagging them both!

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I ran trail cameras in his area all year through 2016, but only had a couple pictures of him and never really got any good photos of him, so I didn’t know the full potential of this buck. After the season, my good friend Nathan Wall showed me some pictures that he had captured on his camera while the buck was in velvet, and he got some really good photos of him that actually made him look like he would be pushing the 170s!

I could not shake those images from my head and became obsessed with him throughout the offseason.

I was going to do everything I could to try and find him

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in 2017. As August ran through into September, he had shown me more pictures of him, only increasing the addiction I had on this deer. I ended up setting five different trail cams all in two square miles of bush where I knew this buck was running. It was probably the end of September when I finally had caught him on cam and was able to pick out a routine and a main trail he was using. I closed in on this core area, and set up a few more cams and patiently waited for the cams to tell me when he was starting to get a little more visible with the rut on the way. Finally, after bringing the card home one night, I saw him four mornings in one week passing by my camera! It was still a little too early for

legal shooting time but within the half hour range. I knew then it was time to get sitting out there and just maybe I could catch him either coming in a little later or possibly keep him around with some grunts until legal sunrise. Finally, it was time to hunt. Early in the morning, I started up my side by side, loaded up with a really good feeling and took off down the back road headed to my spot but not even two miles from home I hit a snow drift which spun me out of control causing me to roll my razor, hurting my shooting shoulder bad.

I then had to walk home because I had no service to make a call and later on headed to the hospital to get it checked out. I took the next day off hunting to rest and

recover, but the next morning, I decided I had to go back out, even if I could still hardly shoot.

Morning came along, and I did the same process except drove a little slower and much more cautious this time around, and made it to the stand without incident. I climbed into the stand and in no time I had two bucks come walking by! It was still too dark to tell if it was him. I wasn’t sure if one was him or not but I still grunted to see if they would stick around.

One immediately ran off but the other started pawing around, wrecking scrub with his antlers and grunting back. He got to the point where he was right under

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my stand. At that time, I could tell it was a buck but not clear enough to tell if it was for sure him or one of the others so I let him go. It was still too dark to shoot anyway. Finally, 8 o’clock rolled around which was just shooting time and all of a sudden, way back in the bush, I could hear a deer coming through the bush at me. It was hard to make it out exactly what it was. I thought it was a doe at first glance, but as he got closer I saw the size and characteristic of his horns and right then I couldn’t believe my eyes. It was him and he was walking down my trail! As he got closer, he walked into my first shooting lane I had made. My muzzleloader was already cocked and ready for fire. I nailed him at 30 yards! It was a perfect shot and he ran about 150 feet from where I shot him and crashed into a tree. I literally shook with excitement the whole drive home.

I was pretty excited that all my hard work and planning paid off, but I have to admit that my second buck had a little more luck to do with it. It all started off with checking the cameras at a different piece of land

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in the last week of muzzleloader season. When I saw the first picture of the buck, he looked massive and it almost made me regret shooting my other one so early!

“When I saw the first picture of the buck, he looked massive and it almost made me regret shooting my other one so early!”

Now that I had already tagged a buck, my brother and Dad got first pick on where they wanted to sit to try and put this big guy down! All of muzzleloader season, we worked together and they sat in all the best spots to try to get him. My Dad had a couple really close chances but just couldn’t get a good enough shot where

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he felt comfortable. Most of his opportunities came when the buck was walking away at an angle where the risk of wounding him was to great. Then, finally on the first day of rifle all three of us geared up for an evening sit. My brother picked to sit in the bush where we had been catching him on cam the week before, while my Dad chose the field where he’d seen him the two previous days. I half-jokingly said, “Well, I might as well go sit in our cabin. At least it’ll be half decently warm!”

However, I knew that it looked over a nice alfalfa field where we had just seen him headed to earlier that morning. Then, after about an hour, with just 15 minutes of legal hunting light, sure enough he came through the bush out to the eight does I had on the field in front of me! As he trotted towards me, I waited until he stopped which was only about 100 yards away from me. Finding a solid rest, I held my 300. Win mag steady on his chest and pulled the trigger. As the recoil of the gun cleared, I was sure he would have dropped, but when I looked at where he was standing, I could not believe my eyes when he was

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still standing there, and just looking at me! I paused, waiting for a delayed drop or something as I thought, “How could I have missed?” Then, all of a sudden he started running. I then chambered another shot and fired as he ran into the bush.

I reloaded my gun and went and checked for blood.

I didn’t find any until I was 50 yards in the bush, but then I found alot so I waited for my Dad, we got our lights and went in, hoping to find the big guy dead.

However, we had no such luck and made the difficult decision to come back in the morning.

Early the next morning found me, my Dad and my good friend Nathan Wall back on his trail, and sure enough we found him right away and thankfully he hadn’t made it through the night. I could not believe how fortunate I was to tag two monster whitetails in the same season. It is a season that I will never forget!

Phillip Seymour anchored a true monster buck in 2017 during the Ohio Muzzleloader season. He passed the buck four years earlier when the buck was a 140-class youngster, and that decision paid off! 200 class typicals are truly rare, but Philips buck is just that, with a gross score of 198 4/8�.

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THE BIGGEST WHITETAIL I WILL EVER HARVEST!

By Phillip Seymour

The story of the biggest typical whitetail I will ever harvest begins a few years back when I first laid eyes on this particular buck. He was not a spectacular buck at that point, but rather a 140-class deer and on November first that year, I had him right under my tree.

I knew that he was not quite I wanted that year so I made the fateful decision to let him walk. I managed to capture some memorable footage of him as passed by at close range and I let him go. That was the one and only time I would see him that season.

The next season arrived, and he put on a lot of growth and he was now a respectable 160 class deer and I was fortunate enough to be able to film him once again.

However, he was now a mature deer approaching his

prime, so I decided to let an arrow fly this time. As I watched my arrow just graze the top of his back, I was not happy with the miss but was relieved that it was just a scratch and not something that would be considered a life-threatening injury. I was confident he would survive but that encounter also changed his behavior and made him much more difficult to catch up to. In fact, it would be almost two full years before I would see him on the hoof again! He was a regular on my trail camera but he was like a ghost that did not

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really exist. If it was not for the odd trail camera picture, I would not have hardly believed he was there.

The next season was the same story, with the buck winning every time, and staying out of sight but not out of mind. It all changed on January 8th, 2017 when I was able to harvest him during was Ohio muzzleloader season. Me and my good buddy Mike Strong were in the blind and it was one of those days when deer are everywhere. We had at least 15 deer in front of us and more coming all the time. Then, out of nowhere and like magic he came strolling right in like he owned the place. I waited for the perfect opportunity and he came full potential. Admittedly, I am also glad my arrow was high the following season because he would not have become the 200-inch monster buck that he is today!

Truly, he was a buck of a lifetime. I did not know it at

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“It all changed on January 8th, 2017 when I was able to harvest him during was Ohio muzzleloader season” right in to 15 yards! I was able to shoot him at with my Thompson Center pro hunter 50 cal., dropping him in his tracks and my boy Mike Strong was able to film all of it for me!

Looking back, for me the best part of all this is if I hadn’t passed him four years before I was able to tag him, then he never would have reached his full

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potential. Admittedly, I am also glad my arrow was high the following season because he would not have become the 200-inch monster buck that he is today!

Truly, he was a buck of a lifetime. I did not know it at the time when I killed him, but he was actually a fairly well-known buck with many local hunters. In fact, after I harvested him, a few of my friends that hunt around me sent me some pictures they had also had of him on their trail cameras. Turns out that there were a few guys after him, but I was the one who was blessed enough to tag him.

I don’t know why god let me harvest him, but I’m so thankful he did, and every day when I see that buck on my wall, I thank him for allowing me to do it.

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Ethan Hampton first captured pictures of the Midwest monster buck he and his brother nicknamed Longbrow in 2014, and also picked up his sheds that year. It took three full years for him to catch up to the buck again, and in the fall of 2017 he again got trail camera pictures of the big deer! It only took him a couple weeks from there to anchor the 177 1/8� bruiser with archery tackle.

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LONGBROW, THE MIDWEST MONSTER BUCK

By Ethan Hampton

It all started in the fall of 2014. That was the first time I laid eyes on this particular buck. At the time he was a mid-140s, 4 1/2 year old, a very respectable buck for our area.

I didn’t hunt the property for the next two years. In August of 2017, I put out some cameras and I could not believe it when the first buck to show up was Long Brow himself !

We were stunned to see what he had become. He had grown into a monster whitetail, and certainly was living up to his name with an eleven-inch brow tine and trash everywhere off his bases! I had no doubt in my mind that he was definitely my number one target buck for the year. I knew the area quite well, but also spent some time scouting and studying the area, trying to figure out exactly how Longbrow was using it. I was fairly certain that he was bedding in a strip of

timber about 200 yards wide and was moving out of that into some beans to feed regularly. I decided to set up my stand in a staging area, on a heavily used trail between his bedding area and the beans. It seemed like a perfect setup, and I imagined the big deer holding up there shortly after getting onto his feet but before he was comfortable stepping out into the beans. There weren’t many trees to pick from, but I found a good cedar and threw a stand up about 20 feet high. I made sure to camouflaged it in very well, as I knew a mature buck like Longbrow would not be easily fooled. I wasn’t getting pictures of him for about two weeksand found myself wondering if something happened to him. Despite the lack of pictures, on September 30th

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I decided to go hunt for the evening. I checked the card as I was sitting in the stand and to my suprise Longbrow had shown back up the evening before, and in daylight! I could not believe it and must admit that I had a really good feeling then! I really needed a southwest wind for that particular stand and had it early in the sit, but about five pm the wind switched and started blowing from the southeast, directly downwind from where he would come. I could not believe it, and was considering heading out to make sure I did not spook him. The wind was swirling a bit so I decided to wait a few more minutes and see what it did. As I was sitting there I scanned every inch of the forest around me, and I caught a glimpse of something coming from my right. It took only a moment and one glimpse for me to know for sure it was him, and he was coming straight towards me! I picked up my bow and hooked my release. He walked in and gave me a 15yard shot, slightly quartering away and I put a Rocket right through his pump station! I knew I had smoked him! I met my Dad, brother and sister in law back at

the house and gave him about an hour to expire and make sure we didn’t bump him when we went to trail him. It wasn’t hard finding blood because it covered the ground like snow! We followed the blood for about 150 yards. We came up through a little creek and there he laid! In total, his rack carried 177 1/8 inches of bone! All my hard work and preparation had paid off and there was no better feeling!

A BROWNING AUTHORIZED DEALER